


Who Understands Me Becomes Mine

by emungere



Series: Ladders [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will likes pushing Hannibal. He should probably get a new hobby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Understands Me Becomes Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Кто понимает меня, становится моим (Who Understands Me Becomes Mine)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7717102) by [Lee_Miller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lee_Miller/pseuds/Lee_Miller)



_Who hears me, who understands me, becomes mine -- a possession for all time._  
Ralph Waldo Emerson

*

Will sat on a bench in the garden, legs stretched out in front of him. He held a French newspaper, but he was looking over the top of it at a budding camellia bush. A cigarette hung loosely between his lips.

Hannibal circled around to the back of the bench as he approached. He brushed his fingers down the side of Will's neck. Will didn't startle, didn't even glance at him. "You don't smoke," Hannibal said. 

"Got lost. I was talking to this woman in town and she offered me one. And a ride home." 

"Do you always accept offerings from strange women?" 

Will tipped his head back to smile up at him. He took the cigarette from his mouth and held it between thumb and forefinger, as if he were used to smoking them down to the bitter end. 

"She gave me her newspaper too. I can understand about a third of it now." 

"You are making decent progress. When did you quit?" 

"I used to steal my dad's. Couldn't afford them when I left home. By the time I could, I didn't want them anymore." 

Hannibal pulled the cigarette from between his fingers and crushed it into the dirt. "You're not going to start again now." 

"I wasn't planning on it. Just that one." 

"Not even that one." 

The corner of Will's mouth turned up very slightly. "Going to take my newspaper away too? Maybe scrub me down in the shower? I probably smell like her, don't I?" 

Hannibal felt the muscles along his spine tense. "Do you?" 

"Like her perfume anyway. It was nice. Kind of earthy." 

He knew Will was baiting him, but he bent close anyway and breathed him in. The perfume was a dark and complex fragrance. On a stranger, he would have thought it pleasant. 

"Guerlain Vol de Nuit. Your new friend has expensive taste."

"She had a nice motorcycle, too." 

Will had ridden back from town pressed up behind this stranger, chest against her back, hands at her waist. Close enough, for those few miles, that he was now wearing her scent. 

"And did you enjoy your ride?" 

"Yeah, it was fun. I knew a girl in New Orleans who had one. Neither of us had air conditioning, and we'd drive out of the city at night in the summer and watch the stars." 

"You're quite forthcoming with your past today. Is that what you were thinking of a few moments ago? You weren't reading." 

He curled his hand around Will's neck, fingers pressed lightly over his pulse. Will leaned into his touch. 

"No. I was wondering what you'd do if I slept with her." 

Hannibal's grip tightened involuntarily. Will grinned up at him, reckless and unafraid, despite the bite of Hannibal's fingers against his carotid and windpipe. 

"You have no intention of doing so," Hannibal said. His voice was perfectly modulated, the spasm of his fingers now eased to a soft and civilized touch. 

"No," Will agreed. "Just an intellectual exercise. Extrapolating from your emotional state right now, it'd be something to see." 

"Would you still smile when I presented you with her corpse?" 

"It's my neck you've got your hand wrapped around, not hers." 

"Do you fantasize about your own death, Will?" 

"Do you fantasize about killing me so no one else can ever touch me, Dr. Lecter?" 

The moment stretched. Will watched him in that curious way he had, eyes flickering over his face to read every smallest muscle movement, lips parted, as if in anticipation. In the early days of their acquaintance, Will had expected lies from him, the same social lubricant that flowed so readily from everyone else. Telling Will the truth had proved to be addictive. 

"Sometimes," he said, finally, and watched Will's eyes half close in pleasure. "You shouldn't try me like this." 

"I like watching your mask slip." 

"It's there for a reason." 

"I've never been afraid of you." 

The truth of that did unholy things to Hannibal's reason. He bent low again, nose filled with Vol de Nuit and smoke. It permeated Will's hair and clothes and tied him to the world in a way that made Hannibal's skin itch from the inside. His lips touched Will's neck. He would not let himself bite. 

"I could make you afraid of me. Is that what you want? I can't think of another reason for you to goad me this way."

"Maybe I just wanted to see what would happen. That's a motivation you can relate to, right?" 

"The results of such experiments are not always what one would wish." 

"Sometimes they're better." 

"Are you finding life here that uneventful?" 

"No, but you are. You're playing a part, and it's a role you never step out of. The last time I really saw you was the night I got here." 

Hannibal tasted the skin of Will's neck, and Will leaned back to bare his throat. 

"And as a remedy, you plan to push me until my control falters? Do you think that will end well for you?" 

"I don't think it would end _badly_. But I was hoping you'd give in so I don't have to." 

"Do you truly believe you could?"

"Yes." 

Will said it with utter confidence.The air around them stirred with a fresh breeze, the heavy scent of flowers and rain. Hannibal felt his stomach tighten and his cock stir. He pulled his lips back from his teeth and bit into the soft flesh of Will's neck. 

Will gasped and reached back to grab at his forearm, but he didn't try to pull away. It was a finely judged wound. Hannibal hadn't broken the skin, but the bruise would be deep and obvious, high enough on Will's neck that he couldn't hide it. 

"Again," Will said, and he leaned his head back to rest on Hannibal's hip. 

"No. Get up." He stepped around the bench and pulled Will up and forward so that he had to brace himself against Hannibal's chest as he stumbled. He caught Will's chin in his hand, and Will smirked at him. 

"Are we going to shower?" 

"Do you not remember what happened the last time you succeeded in making me angry?" 

"Unless you have another abandoned asylum up your sleeve, I'm not that worried." 

"There are other things I could do. If sufficiently provoked." 

"The things you really want to do to me aren't about pain or fear. They're _base_ , right? That was the word you used. Animalistic, instinctual. Subhuman."

Hannibal wanted to snarl, but it would only prove Will's point. The last word bit particularly deep. Will was a skilled fisherman, and he chose his bait with care. 

"You have an excellent memory for trivia," he said, tone deliberately light. 

"One of the reasons you were so hard to catch was your lack of any distinct signature. Your rituals were created on the spot, tailored to the victim. But you're incredibly ritualistic in your private life. The meals we eat together in particular." 

"Humanity thrives on ritual. It was no different when I ate most meals alone." 

"But now you want me with you. You want me inside your walls, but you're afraid I'll track mud all over your floor, so I have to be clean, right? Untouched by the world. Only for you." 

Hannibal buried his face in Will's neck, wanting exactly that. It was unrealistic and unreasonable and absurd, and he'd never felt anything like it before Will. His fingers dug into Will's upper arm, well out of his conscious control.

"Take off your clothes," he said. 

"Here?" Will said, after the smallest pause.

"Here. Now." 

He made himself let go and step back. He watched Will strip in the middle of the garden and leave his clothes in the dirt. 

Hannibal dropped to his knees and licked up Will's cock. Will clenched his jaw on a sharp exhale. His hands went to Hannibal's hair, and Hannibal opened his mouth and took him in. He sucked hard, gave Will no time for thought or distraction, took him deeper and swallowed around him until he was nearly dizzy with the need for air.

Will shuddered and grew hard in his mouth. He pulled at Hannibal's hair, and his hips flexed forward. He pushed his cock down Hannibal's throat, and Hannibal knew that if he looked up, he'd find Will watching what that did to him, the inevitable physiological responses as well as the strange ease it brought him. 

He didn't look, even when Will cupped his cheek gently with one hand and the back of his head with the other and held him down with his lips nearly to the base of his cock. Will took one loud, unsteady breath and came down his throat. He swayed. 

Hannibal caught his hips and pulled him into his lap, all uncoordinated limbs and wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Will blinked slowly at him and wet his lips. His tongue passed over the indentation made by his teeth a moment before. 

Hannibal kissed him until the taste of smoke faded or became so integrated into his senses that it belonged to both of them. Will curled around him, hands under his suit jacket, and hummed with pleasure as Hannibal stroked down his back. 

"I suppose you got exactly what you wanted," Hannibal said. 

"Mm," Will agreed. He stretched lazily and resettled himself still closer. 

"I ought to toss you in the fountain to get you clean." 

"Cold," Will murmured. He tucked his head under Hannibal's chin and held onto the back of his shirt. 

Intentionally manipulative or not, it made Hannibal hold him tighter and abandon the idea of retribution. "Perhaps a bath, then." 

"With you?"

"Yes." 

"Good." 

The last evening sun slanted over the garden wall and fell across Will's skin in shades of gold. Hannibal traced the scar on his back over and over until Will lay against him, so boneless he might be asleep. 

"You deliberately provoke me," Hannibal said. "This wasn't the first time. You could choose safer hobbies." 

"I trust you." 

"You shouldn't." 

"One of us has to." He stretched again and stood. "Come on. Let's go inside." 

He pulled Hannibal to his feet and left his clothes where they lay. The sun slipped past the top of the wall and left the garden in shadow. They started up the path to the kitchen door, guided by the soft light spilling from the windows.


End file.
